Post 348: His Own Little War

Stardate:70804.1200
Title: His Own Little War
Author:Lt.(jg) Micah Samson
Scene: February Grace's quarters
Time: Current
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*He's a terror. Arm yourself.*

The words of Lily T'Ana echoed in Samson's head, as he stood in the corridor outside February Grace's quarters, back pressed against the wall, and phaser clutched to his chest. His heart raced and a bead of sweat dripped down cheek. It was time to face the enemy, his fear could wait no longer.

Samson ever so slowly slid his hand around the corner, pressing the buttons on the door to open it. As he heard the hiss he attempted a move he hadn't tried since the Academy. He spun around to face the door, then tucked into a ball to roll into the room.

The intent was to pop up in the middle of the room with his phaser trained on his target, but instead he made it halfway through the roll, then tipped over and flopped on his side. His glasses and phaser both tumbled into the room away from him.

*Damn, I hope nobody saw that.*

He retrieved his glasses and shut the door.

*Row?* Came the voice of Sparrow, Lieutenant Grace's cat. Samson looked at the cat, who looked back at him quizzically from the perch Bru had built him so he could see out the window.

"Don't worry little guy, I knew Lily was just kidding." Samson picked up he phaser and opened the power cell compartment, revealing to Sparrow that it was empty. "With so many Klingons on board I thought maybe I should practice a few moves to impress them if the time ever came. I guess that's just not my style."

Samson felt his eyes begin to water, and his nose itch. "Oh boy, lets make this quick shall we little guy?"

In the center of her quarters, the computer flashed a simple message "Read me!" Samson tapped a button and a screen of text appeared. He read it out loud.

"Mr. Samson, thanks for your help. Sparrow enjoys the following feline supplements. 2455, 234, 675, 242, 132, 439, 211 and 1100. 675 is his favorite but please no more then twice a week or he gets an upset tummy. Never 132 after 1100, never 234 on a Wednesday, and 2455 only at night, never in the morning.

Make sure his water and dry food bowls stay full, and 15 minutes of playing with him will usually satisfy him for the day. Dry food supplement is 314 by the way. Thanks again, Lieutenant Grace."

Next to the computer was a holo-image of February from what looked like a few years ago with some friends. Samson assumed it was from before when she was joined. She looked so much happier in the photo then the woman he knew aboard this ship. Seeing a rare smile upon her face, he couldn't help but feel sympathy for her in whatever she was going through now on Trill, and hope that the happier person in this image was still inside her somewhere.

"ACHOOOOOO" Samson sneezed. "Oh, little guy I don't know how much longer I can stay here." Samson sniffled. "Let's just go for 675 and call it a day, okay boy?"

Sparrow leapt down from his perch, and took up a place beside his bowls, which sat on a purple rubber mat to avoid sliding, awaiting his service.

"Computer, feline supplement 675, a bowl of 314 and a bowl of plain water, room temperature."

"ACHOOOOOO". Samson's vision began to cloud as he eyes teared up. "You are lucky I love animals so much little guy, cause I'm dying here."

He set down the fresh bowls, and picked the old ones up. Sparrow took one whiff of the food, and ran away. "Oh come on. That's your favorite!"

Sparrow ran to a drawer, and sat beside it. He turned back to look at Micah and let out a pathetic and sad sounding call. "RooooOOOooowwwWWWW?" It was clearly a question.

"What's in the drawer little guy?" He opened it, and Sparrow rubbed his leg.

Inside was an array of play mice, birds and strands of yarn. "Oh no, I can't." Sparrow ran across the room, and back up onto his perch with a purr. He squatted down flat against the perch and waited for Samson to throw.

"That's not fair."

Sparrow turned his head to the sound, looking even cuter, to compound the unfairness.

"Fine." Samson wiped the tears from his eyes so he could see straight, and flipped one of the mice to Sparrow. Sparrow extended a paw, and whacked the mouse right back towards Samson, hitting him clean in the face.

"Ow!" He could have sworn the look on Sparrow's face was one of satisfaction.

This little game went on for about 10 more minutes, until Sparrow grew tired of it and went to eat his food. Samson labored to breathe as his allergies grew worse with every passing moment, but he endured the pain because the soft spot in his heart kept him from leaving while Sparrow wanted to play.

*I wonder if the Klingons consider facing the pain of allergies to play with a cat to be honorable combat? Probably not.*

Seeing Sparrow was content to eat now, he decided it was best to make a discreet exit while he could still breathe at all. Besides, it was going to be time for Sunshine's walk, after a side trip to Sickbay, and fortunately for Samson he wasn't allergic to Sunshine.

He bent over to say "Your welcome." to Sparrow, who was currently stuffing his face full of 675. Sparrow stopped eating just long enough to rub his face against Micah's. He appreciated the tank you, even though it elicited 5 more sneezes in rapid succession.

Samson took his leave, remembering to lock the door on the way out so little Sparrow didn't make one of his famous away missions outside of Grace's quarters.

He cleared his eyes once again, and found his way to the turbolift.

"Sickbay!"

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Lt. Micah Samson
Science Officer
USS Independence